I spin to face him. "What, why?"
"This." He gestures at me. "This reaction is exactly why I've been trying to ease you into—"
"Ease me into being a billionaire?"
"Into understanding what marriage to me would mean, yes."
"I—I didn't ask for all this money! I just need enough to be able to afford rent and groceries and a mortgage someday—"I'm flailing now. "Just normal couple stuff. Not—" I can't even process this.
"You have enough for everything you want and more. Does it matter how much more?"
"YES, IT MATTERS!" I leave the table and head for the hallway.
"Where are you going?"
"Bathroom."
He suddenly starts laughing. "What, to throw up?"
"Screw you, Jordan."
He catches me before I reach the door, spinning me around and pressing me against the wall. His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones.
"I'm sorry, I laughed okay," he says quietly. "But can't you see I'm the same man you fell in love with? Who enjoys greasy food at dive bars. Who teases you at math yet can't boil water to save his life. Nothing's changed."
A grudging chuckle escapes me, then his forehead touches mine. "You're the same amazing woman too. The rest is just noise. Okay?"
"Okay," I whisper.
He kisses me until I forget what we were arguing about. Then he makes me forget my own name, right against the wall.
But the universe, in all its cruel glory, serves me a brutal reminder just two days later.
15
"I'mtellingyou,thatlast question was designed by sadists!" Molly throws her hands up as four of us pile into Sam's red Honda Fit. "Actual sadists who hate joy and want us to suffer."
I adjust my backpack, wincing as my headache pulses behind my eyes. Three hours of calculus will do that. "It wasn't that bad."
Three pairs of eyes bore daggers into me, and I regret opening my mouth.
"Says the girl who's been getting private tutoring from her billionaire boyfriend," Molly mutters, but she's grinning.
"I know, right," Linda Bello, another of our friends, chirps. "The rest of us mere mortals are out here suffering."
A stupid little smile tugs at my lips despite the headache and my friends' teasing. I so nailed that last question. The one Jordan made me redo three different ways on the phone last night, his patient voice walking me through the logic until it clicked.
"I gotta run," Molly says, as Sam drops Linda off. "My shift at the diner starts in twenty. Are you working tonight?"
"No, thank God!"
"I don't know why you're still working at all, Bree. If my boyfriend had a tenth of what Jordan did, I—" She snaps her mouth shut at the dirty look Sam throws her.
They start arguing but I tune them out, thinking Molly has a point however off she is.
I should really be handing in my notice at Pizza Fiesta. Houston looms—less than a month away now. And marriage. And secrets so delicious I'm dying to share but can't. Not yet.
Soon, though. Soon I'll be able to tell Molly everything. Show her the ring hidden in my jewelry box under my bed. Explain why I'm moving to Texas, why I deferred NSC for a year, and why I may end up going to Yale instead.
